with tunnel vision
by Jupiter Queen
Summary: No matter what, Jonesy's eyes would always be on his girl. (One-shot.)


_**Warning**_ _: Profanity, mentions of alcohol, and suggestive themes._

 _ **A/N**_ _: So I decided to write an unofficial sequel to "what is priceless" by lola coppola (aka one of my fave fanfic writers), taking on Jonesy's perspective by writing how he views the little things about Nikki. I loved writing this because it feels like "snapshots" of their relationship._

 _Besides, I needed to write to take my mind off real life. Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

Jonesy always found himself entranced by Nikki's lips. Not just because he loved kissing them—an activity always on his mind—but because her smile was always worth seeing. The curl in her lips was much adored on his behalf. She spent so much time frowning because of her job at the "Crappy Barn" and her distance from older sister and her decision to take AP Calculus that when she smiled, especially due to Jonesy's jokes, his day was made.

He loved the way she smiled at him. He loved the feel of her lips on his cheek, always leaving strawberry chapstick behind. He loved the taste of said chapstick whenever they made out in the backseat of his car. Whenever they made out anywhere, for that matter.

All his thoughts about kissing his girl led him to think about her tongue, especially now that she got it pierced. He grinned at the thought of it. She certainly knew her way around a French kiss.

She liked to blow raspberries at him with her tongue too, letting out her inner child. Though Wyatt was the most mature of the boys, Jonesy regarded Nikki as the most mature of the gang, but she was entitled to her juvenile moments. Being immature by nature, Jonesy was glad to blow raspberries right back at her, resulting in play hitting and bursts of laughter.

His intrigue rested within how she drank her liquor. Her tongue would run over her lips after taking a sip, savoring whatever she didn't swallow.

More than her smile and tongue, however, he cherished her hair. It was her signature feature. He loved the way she straightened it out after it got messy from their make-out sessions. He always looked down and smiled when she rested her head on his chest during a movie, letting him run his fingers through her purple locks.

He gazed at her in amusement whenever they swam in his pool, with her breaking through the surface with her wet hair clinging to her face, making her look like a punk mermaid of sorts. The thought amused him.

While he remembered the days when her hair was long and black, he didn't miss them. He was just as happy as she was with her current look. Her short purple hair was her trademark, her signature. He couldn't see her with anything _but_ purple hair. But even if she decided to style it differently, he would still be with it because he would always be with her. Though he had to learn the lesson when they began dating, he knew that her look was her decision. And he'd always respect that.

Whenever he wasn't musing about the nuances of her lips or her tongue or her hair, her hips and—by association—her rear drove him wild. His eyes were drawn to the way she fit her baggy pants. He loved thinking about what was _underneath_ said pants. He loved the switch in her hips; he realized she switched on purpose because she knew he was always looking, so she wanted to give him something to look at.

He loved the way she straddled him, making sure he wouldn't go anywhere while she was with him. Little did she know, she always had his full attention.

Her eyes would always be her best feature, however. They were so brown and lively, full of ambition and other things Jonesy didn't have much of. Her eyes were the color of rich dark chocolate—the expensive kind of chocolate he always saw when forced to go to department stores with Jen, Courtney, and Emma around the holidays.

She'd always roll her eyes at something she disagreed with, her eyes being the gateway to her feelings.

She was rarely, if ever, afraid to make eye contact with Jonesy. Her eyes always bore through his when she had something to say to him. Her eyes were always honest. Her eyes suggested the hidden depths that strangers could never see, the depths Jonesy knew intimately.

He wasn't a writer like she was. He was far from poetic and well-spoken. He was damn-near miles away from that, in fact. He just happened to be a boy with tunnel vision for a gem like her. A resilient, steadfast, smart, sarcastic, and stunning gem.

And his eyes would always be on her.


End file.
